Spoils of Eden (13 page)

With Celestine requesting they all stay for a celebratory dinner to welcome Grandfather Ainsworth home and to celebrate Jerome’s
safe arrival from distant shores, Eden joined Candace in her guest bedroom. As they readied themselves for the elegant dinner, Eden wrinkled her brow, trying to recapture what it was about Herald Hartley’s arrival that piqued her curiosity. The incident had come and gone like the rustle of the palms playing a theatrical interlude.

Candace’s voice cut through Eden’s reflection. “You haven’t lost your earlier enthusiasm so soon, have you, Eden?”

Eden turned toward her older cousin of five years. Candace Minerva Derrington, with grave face, high cheekbones, and strong shoulders, stood watching her. Her auburn hair, so different from Eden’s lush dark tresses, set them apart at any gathering. And while Eden’s eyes were as green as gems, inherited from her mother, Rebecca, Candace had the sharp blue eyes of the Derrington men. She also had what Eden affectionately termed “a lean, hungry look” that complemented her sometimes overly strong opinions. Even the tone of her voice held the cool sharpness of a New England Yankee. If there was anyone in the family who had the emotional stamina to stand up to Grandfather Ainsworth, it was Candace. She was wealthy, having inherited all that belonged to her deceased father. As the only child of Douglas Derrington, Grandfather’s firstborn son—and the son of his pride—Candace was destined to also inherit the lion’s share of “all things Derrington.”

Eden respected Candace for her convictions in the Christian faith. She was a sober woman who held interest in charity among the uneducated children of the sugar workers. She had always been unconventional, and thus it was no surprise when, instead of falling in love with one of the many sons of wealthy Island planters or businessmen, she’d fallen for a hapa-haole with no family to speak of and little prospect for owning large sections of land.

Candace was dressed for dinner in a blue dress of high Victorian fashion, lace to her chin and thin wrists. Her auburn hair was brushed clean and smooth into a sophisticated chignon.

“You’re going with Uncle Jerome to Molokai, aren’t you?”

Leave it to Candace to be one step ahead.

“He’s not mentioned Molokai. He’s more likely to resume his position at Kalihi,” she said of the leper hospital.

“There may be trouble with Clifford,” Candace said of Dr. Bolton. “Grandfather will naturally want Jerome to head up the Board of Health now that he’s returned. That won’t go over well with Lana, I’m afraid.”

It was hardly a secret in the family, especially among the women, that Lana Stanhope and Dr. Bolton were in love, and had been for many years. Eden’s preferences were torn between her father and Dr. Bolton, who had graciously granted her work in close alliance with himself and Lana.

“I shall avoid the battle, if it comes to one.”

“I had no idea Uncle Jerome would return this soon after King Kalakaua’s death. I wondered when the news might reach him.”

Eden had wondered, as well. “Perhaps he and Herald Hartley were in San Francisco longer than we realize.”

“Yes. With Kalakaua’s death, will the royal funds for your father’s leprosy research come to an end?”

Eden sighed. “I suppose so. The hospital research is separate, of course. That work is ongoing. I’m certain it’s one of the main reasons my father is anxious to present his research before the Board next week. He needs funding to continue his own cause. That’s the main reason I don’t think he’ll take, or even want, Dr. Bolton’s position if asked. He’s always been a singular man, as you know. His cause is Molokai—and Rebecca.”

Candace nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why I was surprised when he introduced the assistant, Herald Hartley. He’s never worked with an assistant before has he?”

“He’s never mentioned one to me. What did you think of him?”

Candace considered the question. “He seems dedicated enough to your father. I thought he appeared somewhat anxious at times.” She smiled thinly. “He and Rafe didn’t connect very well.”

Eden glanced at her. Broken hearts often weaken one’s health.
I should pray more for her
. Then she wondered about her own heart.
Other than the excitement over the return of Dr. Jerome there was actually little that brought daily joy.
Oh, Rafe
.

Turning to the mirror above the vanity table, Eden began arranging her thick, dark hair, decorating it with a few white blossoms that Celestine’s serving girl had brought up on a tray. Eden had changed from her gray nursing dress and white pinafore into an evening gown borrowed from Candace, which almost fit. Candace was taller and thinner. Some would have called her “boney.”

The stylish sash that Eden now tied about her waist did wonders for the fit of the pale apple-green watered-silk dress.

“Oliver’s arrival was as unexpected as Jerome’s,” Candace said shortly. “It was quite unfair of him to return now.”

Eden couldn’t hide a wry smile over her cousin’s indignation. “Would the time of his arrival in Honolulu ever be right?”

Candace sighed. “I wish he’d stay in the Bay City and take root like a mulberry tree. Even so, it wasn’t fair of Grandfather to return with Oliver in tow, as though bringing me a new puppy.”

“At least he won’t be coming to dinner tonight. According to Zachary, Oliver went home to Hunnewell House.”

“A small reprieve. The luau next week is more than soon enough. By then I may be able to convince Grandfather I’ve no intention of marrying Oliver.”

The luau, as Eden recalled, was to announce the public engagement. Her heart knew a pang. There’d been a luau for her and Rafe as well. That warm and wonderful night of festivities under a big yellow moon was etched in her memory forever.

“I don’t know how I’m going to convince him, but I must.
Good
marriages aren’t made in heaven, according to Grandfather,” Candace clipped. “They’re made for land and money. Love doesn’t enter in at all.”

“Well, in fairness to the old ways of arranging marriages, the missionaries in 1820 married those who shared their hearts for the work. They were willing to give up material treasures for eternal reward. Love may have come later.”

“I suspect it did. At least, they had respect for each other.”

Candace seemed to be thinking of someone in particular. After a moment she said, “Poor Celestine. Who could respect a husband like Uncle Townsend. And springing Silas on her the way he did. It was odious.”

“It was Celestine’s decision to marry Townsend,” Eden said. “And the reason had nothing to do with furthering the work of God.”

“And now she suffers. But I have respect for her. At least she’s taking responsibility and not making excuses. Well,
my
marriage will be made by heaven as they say, or there’ll be no marriage.”

Eden must have shown her doubt, because Candace paced restlessly. “I mean it, Eden. I’m not going to marry Oliver. If I respected him we could at least build a decent life together, or try. Maybe one day I could even love him as the father of our children. I’m sorry to say, I think Oliver’s lazy and spoiled. He’s inherited everything, and earned nothing. And he’s willing to receive it all by agreeing to every wish of the Hunnewell family, and to Grandfather, too. Can you imagine the disagreements we’d have?” She placed a hand to her forehead dramatically.

Eden sympathized. She’d not cared much for Oliver, either, who was a boring elite, and worse than Zachary when it came to social prejudices. And of course, Oliver had little respect for Keno, whom he brushed off as unimportant. He could never understand why Candace would turn him down. “Grandfather would be shocked to hear you say you don’t respect Oliver. If there’s any name in Honolulu to which tribute is paid, it’s Hunnewell.”

“Oh, yes,
Albert
Hunnewell the minister, their great-grandfather. Along with our own
Jedaiah
Derrington, and
Wallace
Parker, good men, all. But their offspring? Some wear the name after the glory has departed. And to think we, like Oliver, are the offspring of some of the great missionaries of the past. They gave up family, friends, and security to come to the islands. They suffered from lack of food and became ill with tuberculosis in order to turn spiritual
darkness into light. They received little if anything in return but a grass hut. And even that was slandered by the Honolulu businessmen of the time as an act of greed.”

“The businessmen were looking for excuses to condemn the missionaries. The truth is, they liked the money the whalers spent for their liquor, and didn’t want to see the islands find morality,” said Eden.

“They needed the Savior themselves, but didn’t see it.”

“Would not
see it. They were comfortable dwelling in darkness.” Eden knew well the story of how angry the whalers were because the Hawaiian women no longer swam out to their ships for sexual liaisons, but were keeping their bodies as dwelling places for the Spirit of God. Some of those whalers had lain waiting for Hiram Bingham to kill him, but a Hawaiian saved him from their clubs. The story reminded Eden of how the people in Sodom had surrounded Lot’s house, threatening to injure him because he opposed their wickedness.

“I agree,” said Candace, “and it saddens me. Even so, to convince the family Keno is a better choice will be nigh to impossible. For one thing he doesn’t have a respected old family name, and he’s not a landowner in Hawaii.”

“It appears as if it doesn’t matter what they sincerely
believe
in their hearts, just as long as they come from one of the old families. Oliver is a nominal believer. His faith doesn’t influence his life at all.”

Candace moved restlessly about the room, looking at some of the Easton family paintings on the wall. “To think I was born into such a missionary family, with Great-grandfather Jedaiah one of those early Christians. Yet, it wasn’t until Keno—a
Hawaiian—
taught me the basics of Christianity that I fully understood the meaning of Jesus’ death on the cross. Only then, did I claim His finished work of redemption for
my
very
own
. Before that it was impersonal, just as it is with Oliver Hunnewell and many of us. It’s so tragic. But Keno
isn’t good enough
for me to marry.”

Eden had understood all along that it was Keno’s faith, brought
to him through Rafe, that had won Candace’s love and loyalty.

“Did you know Keno’s the only one showing up at Ambrose’s for the Monday night study? Of course Rafe’s excused, with the new group he’s started with the pineapple workers, but what about our own Zachary?” Eden remained silent about Zachary’s tense relationship with his half-brother Silas. Even so, Candace was astute and must realize there was a problem.

“The Oliver Hunnewell I know wouldn’t endure getting his shoes mussed by walking across a wet field to attend church. I shall tell Grandfather that, too. Make Oliver show he’s a Christian by attending the Monday evening studies at Ambrose’s. Let me see his love for our Lord, and his interest in Scripture. Grandfather will soon find out that Oliver’s religious convictions are without foundation.” Candace gave a brief mirthless laugh.

Her action took Eden by surprise. Candace sobered as quickly as she’d laughed. “Keno would walk through a thunderstorm to attend that Bible study. That’s what I love about him. The muddy shoes and his old Bible. Facing the storm if necessary, all to be there. Don’t you see what’s ironic in all this? Are we not the magnificent Derringtons? The noble offspring of some of the first missionaries who left all in Connecticut and Boston to enlighten the Hawaiians? Grandfather Ainsworth keeps the painting of Great-grandfather Jedaiah in the hall at Kea Lani, doesn’t he? The Bible Jedaiah used to teach his first Hawaiian convert is on the ledge beneath the painting.”

“But Grandfather’s proud of the work his father did here in Honolulu, as we all are.”

“You’re missing my point, Eden. He’s proud of Jedaiah for the spiritual choices made in his time. When it comes to making spiritual choices today, however, the family frowns. Other than memorializing the painting, how does Jedaiah’s work of faith inform Grandfather’s present choices?”

The answer, of course, was painful, and Eden kept silent. She understood the tragedy for Candace in a marriage to Oliver. She’d never be content with him unless he became a
new man
in Christ.
What was it Pastor Ambrose had taught on a recent Sunday morning? It was on the same subject, but he’d applied it to all Christians in Hawaii, rather than just the old missionaries. “Are we like the ancient Israelites in the days of the prophet Jeremiah?” he’d observed. “They were the chosen people for the purpose of serving the God of Israel and making Him known to the peoples about them. Ah, Israel—the light of the nations, the one depository of
the
Truth!”

Ambrose had raised his worn Bible.

“Instead of leading the way for the spiritually blind about them, that generation of Israelites began to imitate their idolatrous practices. ‘God will
never
permit Babylon to destroy Jerusalem, because we have the Temple,’ they argued with Jeremiah. ‘The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord!’ they shouted. What were they saying? God would never bring Jerusalem to dust and rubble. After all, they continued their religious rituals, didn’t they? Even if their behavior was like the heathen all around them, and far from the Holy One that the Temple was built to serve.”

It had been convicting, and Eden wondered about her own heart. Did she desire to work with her father on Molokai for
God’s
honor, or was her motive self-serving? The Derringtons liked to boast about their spiritual heritage as offspring of the great missionaries to Hawaii. They often boasted about
their
dedication,
their
work, and
their
faith. But what about
ours
? Ambrose was right.

“And what good is a painting of a family missionary hero, whose example we don’t follow?” she murmured to herself. “We might as well put it in the museum.”

Candace, who’d grown reflective, looked at her. “What were you saying about the painting?”